


You have 1 new email!

by Jean____Ralphio



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dirty Talk, Epistolary sex, F/M, GUYS, I don't know man, I regret so much about this, Lawyers!AU, M/M, PWP, Sexting, but like by email, email sex?, just lots of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24313711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jean____Ralphio/pseuds/Jean____Ralphio
Summary: Oberyn was minding his own business when he received an incredibly explicit email from an admirer at his work. What follows is a lot of sex via email and not very much lawyer-ing, as Oberyn waits for the object of his affections to finally feel ready to play out his fantasies in person. It takes a while, but it's worth the wait.Very little actual work is done and there's a lot of masturbation in unsuitable places. If you want actual plot you will not find it here.
Relationships: Oberyn Martell/Willas Tyrell, implied Sansa Stark/Sandor Clegane, slight Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 14
Kudos: 72





	You have 1 new email!

**Author's Note:**

> Guys I don't know, I really don't.  
> This just happened. So whatever.  
> There's like 5 people who even ship this? This is for you guys, I guess!
> 
> A huge thanks to my amazing betas for wasting their time: tumblr users @dazebras, @confuzld and my parabatai @whosthathufflepuff.
> 
> Come @ me on tumblr: @jean----ralphio

_You have 1 new email!_

The chime as a notification scrolled across his screen startled Oberyn Martell into glancing down at his phone, where he spotted the little red 1 in its bubble over the envelope icon. He tapped the icon to open his email inbox before going back to the page of notes he was reading on the _Arryn vs Baelish_ case.

This case was going to be a bitch. It _should_ have been a cut and dry restraining order in favour of the prosecution – Oberyn for his client Lysa Arryn – but the scumbag defendant was being represented by Cersei fucking Lannister, and that immediately made the whole thing a nightmare.

Of all the despicable, batshit crazy, permanently wine-drunk lawyers in the city, of which there were many, Oberyn hated his senior partner’s ex-wife the most. Motivated by greed and spite, Cersei had disgustingly lax morals and seemed to thrive on allowing the worst sort of people to prosper unfairly. The rest of Cersei’s cohorts at Targaryen & Lannister, which was largely made up of Oberyn’s sister’s former in-laws, weren’t much better.

Oberyn shot a half glance back at his phone ten minutes later, finally opening the waiting email, noting that it came from an unfamiliar address. It was another fifteen minutes before he dragged his eyes up again to actually read the contents.

He wished he’d looked at it a hell of a lot sooner.

The message was relatively short, but… _damn_.

_I want you to fuck me over your desk._

_I want to feel your teeth gripping my shoulder as you cum hot and thick inside me, then I want you to finish me off with your hand, all over your briefings._

_Ideally the Oldtown report._

_I fucking hated the research for that._

_I think you should fuck me as rough and fast as you can as a reward for all my hard work, sir. Make me ache and scream and feel you for days after, please?_

_Because I want you to. I really, really, really want you to._

Oberyn raised his eyebrows in interest at the message, sitting in all its glory in black text on the white background of his phone screen. The email address it had come from was obviously a fake – pleasesir@asoiaf.com – and there was no name offered to identify the mystery Oldtown-report-hater from either.

All Oberyn could really discern was that the sender was obviously a co-worker of his at Baratheon, Lannister & Martell Law.

Already, he was conflicted. The message was freaking hot and Oberyn was definitely interested in hearing more – a lot more – but he made it a point to never mix work with pleasure.

Not that there weren’t temptations to that self-imposed rule.

Oberyn always assumed that one day he and Renly Baratheon would have a bout of very quick and energetic sex, probably somewhere half-public, like the boardroom or either of their offices. Or at least, they would have by now, if Loras Tyrell hadn’t arrived on the scene. He was also more than a little bit interested in Brienne Tarth, Renly’s completely badass paralegal. If she weren’t so hung up on Jaime Lannister and Jaime on her, Oberyn would have begged Brienne to fuck _him_ years ago. And he sure as hell wouldn’t say no to the gorgeous creature that was Willas Tyrell, who, when he wasn’t busy blushing at any attention Oberyn paid him and looking so damn sweet with his tumbling brown curls and big hazel eyes, was one of the hardest working interns that the firm had ever managed to wrangle itself.

Frowning, Oberyn pushed his thoughts of the young man – and all the ways they could break Oberyn’s no-sex-with-colleagues rule – away and considered the email again.

It had been sent to his personal email address rather than to his work account, which suggested the mystery person wasn’t a _complete_ idiot as to use the work servers; though, sending such an explicit message at all was grounds for a sexual harassment suit. How his admirer had even gotten Oberyn’s personal email was another question altogether.

It wouldn’t be difficult to drag Sandor Clegane up from the floor below, where the firm’s IT crew was housed alongside their law clerks and paralegals and get him to trace the sender’s IP address. Sansa Stark, another of their interns, would certainly enjoy a second glimpse of Clegane today. Oberyn had noticed her blushing that morning as Sandor had stalked past her carrying Robert Baratheon’s dual-screen PC monitor, his biceps bulging impressively against the material of his black t-shirt.

But that felt like cheating.

Besides, Oberyn certainly wasn’t offended or upset by the email. If anything, he was actually quite impressed with what he’d read. It was a ballsy move on the part of whoever had sent it. Oberyn admired that. And the message itself was fucking hot; Oberyn definitely liked that part, too.

So, someone here at work had an intensely lust-fuelled crush on him?

He couldn’t blame the mystery person. It was perfectly natural and quite common. Most people developed a crush on Oberyn, at some point during interaction with him. But this secret admirer wasn’t so forward that they wanted him to know who they were, which was a pity, as that made it seem that they probably didn’t want to actually act on their fantasy.

Whoever it was had worked on the Oldtown report, which unfortunately didn’t narrow the field of possibilities. Most of the firm had been roped in to help, largely because Robert Baratheon did very little actual work for himself and had left the whole thing too late. Everyone, from the interns right up to Oberyn and Jaime, Robert’s partners, had all stepped in to save his ass and get the report completed in time.

Oberyn considered sending his admirer a reply – _The Oldtown debacle was indeed a mess, should I offer to fuck the entire office in lieu of paying the overtime we owe you all? Please see that everyone forms an orderly queue outside my door, and don’t worry, I’ll save you till last –_ but he eventually left the message unanswered.

Noticing that it was almost 11am, Oberyn scooped up his papers on the _Arryn vs Baelish_ case and headed off towards the meeting room Jaime had booked them, allowing himself an idle smile as he did so. The corridor outside the offices of the three partners and their associates was empty, so Oberyn didn’t cross paths with anyone until he passed the reception and the intern’s desks. He shot an unimpressed look at Loras when he spotted him filing his nails rather than answering the ringing phone. The kid sighed at getting caught, and grudgingly picked up the call.

The interns' open-plan area, when Oberyn passed through it to get to the meeting rooms that laid beyond, was surprisingly empty. Where they had all disappeared too was a mystery, but Oberyn just shrugged. Tyrion usually looked after their little band of helpers perfectly well, so wherever they were, Oberyn was sure they were all fine.

“You don’t want me to fuck you, do you?” Oberyn asked Jaime, who was already waiting for him in their designated room. Jaime was lounging in his seat, all golden hair and glorious long legs. Outside, rain spattered the window with large droplets, and compared to the day’s gloom, Jaime looked even more bright and beautiful.

Jaime thought about the question as he appraised Oberyn for a long moment. “No. Not particularly. No offense.”

“None taken.”

A tap on the door announced darling Willas, looking like sin personified in an olive-green shirt and slightly-too-tight trousers. He slid into the room balancing a tray bearing a French press and two coffee mugs on one hand. Willas’ knee must have been bothering him too because he gripped his cane in his free hand, forcing him to carry his notebook wedged awkwardly under one armpit and a pen between in his teeth. That explained, at least, why he had been absent from his usual desk.

Oberyn started to jump up to help Willas, but Sansa appeared behind him in the doorway. She giggled up at her friend and plucked the pen from his mouth, shifting chairs out of his way and holding the door for him. Willas smiled gratefully at her as he lowered his cargo carefully onto the table then settled opposite Oberyn, ready to take notes for the two partners.

“You don’t want one for yourself, Willas?” Oberyn asked him, gesturing at the two mugs, as Sansa shut the door on her way out.

“Oh. No, sir. Thank you,” Willas shot him a quick look from under his lashes as he readied his pen.

“Why do you want to know if I want to fuck you?” Jaime asked Oberyn as he poured their coffee, still apparently mystified about the earlier question.

Oberyn tore his eyes away from the cute blush that started to bloom across Willas’ cheeks as he looked between the two partners, his pretty hazel eyes going wide.

“No, not you fuck me. _Me_ fuck _you_ ,” Oberyn corrected Jaime.

“What’s the difference?”

“God, you’re so hetero; there’s no way it’s you. Don’t worry about it. Someone here at work sent me a very interesting, but alas anonymous, dirty email. I’m trying to figure out who.”

“Oh. Kinky. Wasn’t me.” Jaime shrugged. “Get Clegane to trace it. Or are you just going to ask around the whole office?”

“Calling in Sandor sort of ruins it, don’t you think? No, I think I’ll let it lie. If they wanted me to know who they were, they would have signed off with a way for me to figure it out, I guess,” Oberyn muttered as he flipped open the briefing, and casually undid another button of his peacock blue shirt.

“Now, let’s not waste any more of Mr. Tyrell’s time, God knows he works the hardest out of anyone in this room. We’ll begin.”

*

The next morning, another email was waiting by the time Oberyn had pulled his bright orange Spyder into his parking spot underneath their building. He couldn’t help but grin as he opened the message, one hand toying absently with his car keys.

_Everyone says you’re an animal in bed, all lithe movement and deep, hard thrusts; that you like to go slow to drag out the anticipation, the sensations, the pleasure; that you have so much stamina you can make it last all night._

_I want that._

_But first, I want to tie you down so you can’t move a muscle, make you lie there and take only what I give you, render you powerless beneath me. You’d look so good, moaning and spread-eagled, your cock jutting up invitingly as you’re forced to wait for me to decide how to pleasure you._

_I could make you wait hours and hours, just tease you with my hands and mouth occasionally, keep you aching and hard. Would you like that? I bet you would. I bet you’d love it._

_But don’t worry, sir, I’d take pity on you at some point._

_Eventually._

_When the sun starts coming up._

_And then I’d ride you like the fucking stallion you are, until you’re howling my name as I bounce as fast as I can on your undoubtedly lovely cock. I’d only let you cum once you’d screamed yourself hoarse from begging for it._

Oberyn cocked his head as he considered the words for a long moment before he let out a delighted laugh and finally got out of his car. He tucked his phone away in the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket, still chuckling as he strode across the parking garage to the elevator.

His dirty wordsmith had been asking around about him, it seemed. Also likely was that the office was just full of gossips. Oberyn hardly minded talk about his sex life. His prowess was renowned; you didn’t get eight children from four different women by being timid about sex. Only Obara refused to take part in any of the office talk about Oberyn’s sex life, which was fair as she was his eldest daughter.

Turning his thoughts far, far away from his child, Oberyn slid his phone out again and started tapping a reply as the elevator doors slid shut behind him. He leaned an arm against the glass interior of the elevator as he typed.

_You certainly have a way with words, my little mystery. In your email yesterday you were submissive, begging to be used, to be taken hard and rough, as a reward. This morning, it seems you feel the opposite._

_What changed overnight?_

_I wasn’t going to reply to your wanton messages, though don’t get me wrong, they are incredibly erotic. But I find I am simply overcome with curiosity as to what dictates your delightful depravity._

_Will you tell me what it was that rendered you so subservient yesterday? And what in turn has made you wish to have me at your mercy this morning? I simply must know._

An hour or so later, once Oberyn was on his third coffee of the day, he finally settled down in his office to start work. He’d begun his morning as he always did, by gossiping with Tyrion in the tearoom over his first espresso. Tyrion, one of their most formidable associates, had been in an odd mood, spouting off cryptic insights and eyeing Oberyn’s phone pointedly. Oberyn had raised an eyebrow at his friend as he’d made himself another coffee. (He knew there was no way Tyrion was his admirer; like his brother he was very straight, and he also happened to quite possibly be Oberyn’s closest friend. So no. Just no.)

Oberyn had consumed his second coffee while flirting tamely but shamelessly with all four of the interns on his way to his office. Willas had blushed, Sansa had giggled, Pod had rolled his eyes, and Meera had stuck her tongue out at him. Oberyn had flirted with Renly too, but that went without saying; it was as natural as breathing to flirt with Baratheon the younger, who did very little work and mostly just wandered about looking attractive and feeling up Loras at every opportunity.

After doubling back to the kitchen for his third coffee, Oberyn finally managed to make it to his office and dropped into his seat behind his desk. He turned on his laptop and dug some case notes from his drawer, laying everything out neatly before he broke and pulled out his phone. The reply from his mystery admirer was waiting.

_Perhaps I’m just greedy_. _Perhaps I just want everything, all at once, over and over. Perhaps I want to be taken to hand by you for being so forward. Perhaps I want you to fuck me raw until I promise that I’ll be a good boy and on my best behaviour for you, sir._

Outside of his floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun’s weak morning light was hidden by angry grey clouds. Oberyn hummed thoughtfully to himself as he read the message, stretching his legs out before him, and taking the time to glance out at the sulky looking sky. Only then did he tap out a reply.

_I do not believe in such a thing as greediness, my mystery boy, when it comes to gratification._

_I would happily, eagerly give you whatever you asked for, without hesitation, provided it came with your consent._

_You could come in here and ride me in my chair this very instant, if you wanted; you could even tie me up, if you like, since that seems to interest you so much. I don’t keep handcuffs or rope here, but we could improvise. My tie might serve?_

_Alternatively, I could take you up against my office window and put you on display for the street below as I stretch you open, as I slide inside you, as I make you shout out in pleasure._

_Or perhaps you would truly like punishment? What form would it take? Spanking? Edging? Both at once?_

_Whatever you wanted could be yours, every whim indulged, every fantasy a reality; understand that you need only come to me and ask._

Oberyn was just gathering up his notes to go and meet with Robert about Lysa Arryn’s case when his phone chirped to alert him of another new email.

A single line, but it was surprisingly effective – Oberyn was rock hard once he’d finished reading it.

_Please, I want you so bad, sir. God, I want you to fuck me right now, so badly, on the floor, over your desk, in your chair, anywhere, everywhere. Please, sir!_

Oberyn grunted and abandoned his attempt to leave his office, typing a response before he’d even sat back down. Robert could wait.

_Come to me, my sweet. Come and get your reward, your punishment, all at once. Or, if you don’t feel ready, show me your need instead. Show me how badly you desire me, sweet one. Show me how much you need to be pleasured this very instant._

The picture of the hard, flushed cock that arrived in his inbox five minutes later had Oberyn ducking into the private ensuite attached to his office. He sent his admirer back a picture of his cum, wasted in his hand.

*

4:45pm on Friday afternoon that week saw the office’s inhabitants mostly sprawled about at their desks, doing very little. There was certainly plenty of work to be done, but the whole firm was drained after a long, tiring week.

Oberyn was pretty sure Meera was sipping something that was probably alcoholic from her water bottle. Tyrion was already reclining on the couch in Oberyn’s office with his eyes shut, a glass of something completely alcoholic, in his hand. Loras was slumped down in his seat at reception with his feet propped up on his desk; though he perked up to eye his boyfriend’s ass every time Renly walked past him, which seemed to be unnecessarily often.

Oberyn was one of the few still working; he’d met with Lysa earlier and was still writing the terms of the restraining order she wanted against Petyr Baelish. He’d called Sansa into his office for the meeting, in a non-professional capacity, as he was adding her name to the restriction along with her mother’s and younger sister Arya’s. Baelish had accosted Sansa after she’d come out of court with Oberyn once, and the memory of the leer the creep had given her still raised Oberyn’s hackles.

Oberyn could teach classes on the art leering, but the whole point was that they should only be directed at a willing recipient, and Sansa had been clearly terrified of Baelish. Oberyn had stepped between the two and she had almost shrunk in on herself under his arm. He had kept a close eye out for Baelish ever since. He’d given Baelish’s details and photo to Sandor and Brienne, who the firm often used as muscle should the need arise. If Baelish ever came near Sansa’s workplace he’d be thrown out on his ass before he knew what had hit him.

It was only when he heard Yara’s voice calling for him that Oberyn abandoned his work and made his way out of his office. He found Yara, who had come to deliver Oberyn four of his daughters for the weekend, in the intern’s area leaning against Sansa’s desk. She was telling all her best jokes. Sansa, who had been subdued since her meeting with Oberyn, seemed to finally be perking up.

As Oberyn approached, he noticed the grip his co-parent had on Dorea and Loreza’s hands, which were firmly clutched in hers to keep them from wreaking havoc on the office. Yara only let them go when she saw Oberyn. His two youngest girls ran to hm, squealing, and he swept them into his arms together, lifting them up and squeezing them to his chest.

“My babies!”

Loreza giggled as he kissed her forehead and lugged them back to their stepmother.

“Yara,” he greeted his ex-partner’s wife with a kiss too, and she offered him her cheek with a smile.

“Oberyn, are you behaving yourself?”

“Never, my dear,” he vowed, winking at Sansa, who laughed.

Oberyn rocked his girls in his arms as he cast about for Obella, who at 12-years-old was too cool to run to greet her father, even though he hadn’t seen the girls all week. She sat with Willas at his desk, giggling at something he was showing her on his computer.

“Obella, don’t annoy the interns. They’re underpaid as it is,” Oberyn chided her.

“Aw, she couldn’t be annoying if she tried!” Willas bumped Obella’s shoulder with his and grinned up at Oberyn, all sweet eyes and curls.

The hurried pace of Ellaria’s heels heralded her striding into the room; Oberyn tore his eyes away from Willas to meet her livid gaze. Their eldest daughter’s upper arm was clutched in her hand, and Elia was red-faced and struggling against her mother’s grip.

“Tell your father what you did!” It wasn’t like Ellaria to lose face in public, but Oberyn could see she was fuming. Oberyn put the younger girls down to take Elia from her. Ellaria planted her hands on her hips and scowled, then wound her arms around her wife’s waist when Yara reached for her.

“She’s just keyed Robert’s car!” Ellaria spat to Oberyn.

Someone, probably Meera, let out a bark of laughter. Oberyn heaved a sigh as he gazed down at his daughter, who was 15 and turning out to be a handful. Even her older half-sisters Nymeria and Tyene hadn’t been this much trouble put together when they were in their teens, and Oberyn had been raising them alone at the time.

“Well then, Elia shall pay for the damage she’s caused,” Oberyn shrugged, fixing Ellaria with a long gaze to try and urge her to be calm.

“I’m humiliated! I turned my back for five seconds!”

“She will pay, Ellaria.”

“He deserves it!” Elia complained. “The patriarchy – “

“Oh, honestly. Property damage is not how we fight the patriarchy! Oberyn, do something. I’m at my wit’s end!”

Oberyn reached out a hand to cup Ellaria’s cheek on instinct.

“I’ll handle it, my dear!”

“Robert’s got so many cars that he won’t even notice,” Tyrion chirped from the doorway, and finally Obella spotted someone she wasn’t embarrassed to run and greet. Tyrion gave Obella a kiss on the cheek as she hugged him, then continued to address her sister over her shoulder. “But your mother is right, Elia, as ever.”

“As your lawyer, I must advise against you committing any further damage to my boss’ property,” Oberyn told his daughter.

Elia huffed, before the arrival of her eldest half-sister brightened her mood. Obara was back from a day at court, looking wan.

“Obara!” Elia yanked free from Oberyn’s grip, and all four of his youngest daughters converged on his eldest, who had to quickly dump an armful of files onto Pod’s desk as her sisters all ran at her.

“I could hear Ellaria yelling from the elevators, what have you done now?” Obara asked Elia, her voice already laced with suspicion.

“Nothing!”

“She keyed Robert’s car!”

“Ellaria, stop shouting it out!” Oberyn groaned, as Meera burst into laughter and Willas hid his beautiful smile behind his hand. Oberyn wrapped an arm around Ellaria’s shoulders and guided her and Yara back through reception.

“It will be handled, just relax! Now, enjoy a good couple of days without the kids. Celebrate the house being empty, have some loud orgasms. I’ll bring the girls back on Sunday night, and we’ll have dinner. Please don’t have sex in the elevator on your way down. There’s a security camera, and the guards monitoring it haven’t recovered from Loras and Renly last week. Bye!”

He kissed them both goodnight, and Yara pulled her wife away, already laughing. Oberyn waved to them as the elevator doors slid shut before heading back to his five daughters.

“How did court go?” He asked Obara, who looked as though she had a headache. She’d shaken off her sisters and was going through her files with Pod, explaining something to him.

“Oh, you know.” Not great, plainly.

“Come round tonight? Sarella’s coming. Pizza?”

“Dad, you can surely do better than pizza,” Obara scolded.

Oberyn stuck his tongue out at her before he rushed to retrieve Dorea, who was trying to climb the paper trays of the printer.

“You’ll make a salad to go with it, at least!” Obara kept trying, as Oberyn lifted Dorea up onto his shoulders.

“Yeah, that none of you will eat and will wilt away in my fridge until it turns to green sludge.”

“You could eat it yourself before it goes bad,” Sansa pointed out, trying to be helpful.

“I don’t think I need to worry about my figure, obviously, Sansa,” Oberyn told her as he gestured to his torso, the vast majority of which was on display thanks to his mostly unbuttoned shirt, today a shade of flamingo pink.

Sansa dissolved into a fit of giggles, and Oberyn winked over at Willas, who blushed red before he tore his eyes away from the bare skin of Oberyn’s chest.

“Dad, shut up! You’re so embarrassing!” Obella wailed. Oberyn stuck his tongue out at her too for good measure.

“Come on, let’s go,” Obara began herding her sisters towards the door. “Before he takes his shirt off altogether. Do you know he did that in court once?”

“I won that case, too!” Oberyn called after them, lingering for one last look at Willas’ curls and flushed cheeks before he followed his girls out, bouncing Dorea jauntily on his shoulders as he walked.

*

Oberyn decided against checking his email for the duration of the weekend. Running around after the younger half of his brood to ferry them to sports games, the cinema, and friends’ houses seemingly non-stop was taxing enough without being turned on the whole time from wonderfully explicit messages in his inbox.

When he finally got home from dropping the girls back at Yara and Ellaria’s on Sunday night, he plonked himself down on his couch with a glass of cabernet sauvignon and took a long sip before he gave in and opened his emails.

It seemed his mystery admirer had opted for a quiet weekend too, so Oberyn needn’t have bothered bolstering his defences playing the avoidance game. He dismissed the tinge of disappointment that drifted through him when he saw only one email waiting from him, which had been sent late on Friday night.

The disappointment turned to flickering interest which then morphed into gut-punching lust as he read the message, so Oberyn forgave his admirer very quickly.

_You’re killing me. You are just too sexy; it drives me mad. Your body is a health hazard. You should be illegal or at least come with a warning._

_I try to concentrate at work, but I hear your voice or your footsteps, and all my senses just attune to you. Then you’ll come breezing past on your way to the printer or to one of the meeting rooms and I. Just. Can’t._

_I ache for you, constantly. But I am too much of a coward to act on it, even with your invitation._

_I long to come to you. I want to. Countless times I stand up and start making my way to your office, but I always panic and flee before I reach the door. I am not brave, except for in my daydreams and fantasies._

_Because in my head I slip into your office, kneel at your feet, unzip your trousers and take you in my mouth, suck you as you work, read case notes, make calls. You don’t acknowledge me except for a hand in my hair. It’s all I need._

_I want to worship you. Your body deserves to be revered, and I am enraptured by it._

_I’m lying here on my bed, hard and aching, at just the thought of the weight of you on my tongue, the taste of you in my mouth, the feel of you thrusting down my throat. I’m consumed by my need; my cock is so desperate that it’s leaving wet trails all over my stomach, and I haven’t even touched it yet._

_I’m going to take my time tonight, I’m going to go slow and enjoy it, lose myself in the sensations, in the fantasy I’ve created of serving you at your feet, where I belong, where I want to be._

_When I cum I’m going to moan your name and imagine your hands in my hair, your eyes watching me._

_That is all I can do, and it will have to suffice until the day I manage to make it to your door._

Oberyn read the message three more times, finished his glass of wine, and poured himself a second before he replied.

_My sweetness, you do yourself an utter disservice._

_You needn’t be frightened of me. I’m not going to skulk about the office peering over everyone’s shoulder as they send emails to try and find you._

_If you choose to come to me, which would be lovely, I would take you in my arms and give you pleasure until you were delirious with it, until you only knew how to say my name, until your toes curled in delight and your face was the picture of pure ecstasy as you climaxed._

_And then I would do it again. And again. And again._

_If you do not choose to come to me – and no, that is not cowardice – know that I am more than content with these utterly delicious messages. Unbidden, I am captivated by you. Your words ensnare me. I am your devoted servant, despite your express wish to be mine._

_I know almost everything there is about pleasure, but believe me when I say my fascination with you transcends everything I have experienced. It’s thrilling. You’re thrilling._

_You have nothing to fear from me. If you are ever ready and willing, you know where to find me. In the meantime, I am right here, aching and wanting you, my gorgeous boy._

Oberyn was idly stroking himself to thoughts of running his hands through brown curls, when his phone chirped the reply. He downed another mouthful of wine as he read the short message – _All yours, all for you_ – and then opened the attached image.

God, but there was that lovely cock gracing his screen once more. Hard and red with need, it was rigid and thick, the tip delectably shiny with precum. It was almost torture to have to close the photo in order to respond, but Oberyn forced himself to. 

_That looks utterly delicious, my sweet. You make me ravenous for you. I want to consume you, swallow you down, give you the utmost ecstasy._

Oberyn was stroking his own cock, desperate to cum but not ready yet, when the answer arrived.

_Please, sir. I want you so much. Come and fuck me right now, use my mouth, my fingers, my ass, anything you like. I’ve never been so ready for you, so willing. See?_

Another picture, this time of his sweet-looking hole and his gorgeous, supple ass. Oberyn had to stop touching himself completely or the fun would end too soon.

_Oh, my delicious boy, what I wouldn’t give to lavish you with attention._

_I’d trace the rim of your lovely little hole with the tip of my tongue until it fluttered with need. Then I’d let my tongue flicker over it, teasing it until you beg, wailing for more._

_Once you were reduced to a sobbing, thrashing mess, I’d take pity and let my tongue slip in. Would you like that? Would you like me to tongue fuck you, sweet one?_

His boy would, it seemed.

_Fuck, fuck that’s so hot! Oh God, yes please, sir. I’m going to fucking cum. I’m stroking myself so hard and fast. Can I cum, sir?_

Oberyn smirked as he typed the single word in reply.

_No._

That didn’t receive a very impressed response, and Oberyn had to squeeze himself a few times to get some control back.

_Please, sir! Please, I need it so badly! I can’t fucking stop touching myself!_

It was tempting to give in, but Oberyn knew it was going to be so much more fun for them both if his little admirer held off.

_Not yet. Soon. I want you to do something for me first._

Oberyn trusted him to be obedient, so the reply of _Anything, sir. But I can’t take this much longer!_ wasn’t surprising. He made his instructions as clear as he could even though his own fingers trembled with his unaddressed need.

_I want you to finger yourself for me, sweetest boy, since I can’t give you my tongue like I want to. I need to know your gorgeous little ass is being pleasured. It’s not enough to hear about you rubbing your cock until it bursts for me. Can you finger yourself, my sweet one?_

The reply took longer than Oberyn expected, and Oberyn frowned as he wondered if his boy was misbehaving and cumming before he had been given permission. And yet, the thought of his sweet, lithe body being so overwhelmed that he just had to cum all over himself was so hot that it was too much for Oberyn to bear. He climaxed in his fist as he imagined his boy wracked with sobs of delight as he writhed in pleasure on white bed sheets.

But it turned out he was better behaved than Oberyn had given him credit for.

_Oh fuck. Please, sir. Got two fingers in, and it’s too much, so much, rubbing myself, pressing my sweet spot, it’s so good. Please, sir, can I cum? Please?!_

Oberyn let out a pleased chuckle and sent him the photo he’d managed to take of his own orgasm, his cum dribbling from the tip of his cock and down his fingers, along with the message:

_You’ve done so well, such a good boy for me. You can come, my sweetness._

He didn’t get a reply until much later, after he had showered and was yawning and sated in bed.

_Thank you, sir. See you tomorrow. Going to bed to dream of your lovely cock._

Oberyn smiled as he wished his boy goodnight.

*

There was a small remote control waiting on his desk the next morning, and Oberyn straight up burst out laughing once he spotted it, hastening to take off his suit jacket and drop down onto his couch to examine it.

He turned it on immediately, naturally, opening his inbox as he did so. The email came through in under a minute.

_Fuck! Good morning to you, too. Couldn’t have given me a little warning, sir?_

Oberyn turned it up even higher.

_Don’t be mean! I’m at my desk!!_

Oberyn huffed another laugh as he typed out _You should have thought of that before you gifted it to me… How big is it?_

_Small, just a bullet vibrator, but it’s right up against my prostate. God it’s so good, feels so good. Oh fuck, sir!_

Oberyn laughed even harder as he stood up to close his door, causing Tyrion, who was in the corridor, to raise an eyebrow at him. Oberyn just grinned at his friend, flicked the lock, and settled back down on his couch.

_You’re so depraved, my sweetness. You’re just perfect. Was it our fun last night that inspired such lewd behaviour today? A vibrator wedged up against your sweet little spot… What makes you think I’m going to turn it off at all? How do you know I won’t keep it going on high all day? I’m due at court in an hour. I’ll take the remote with me, so you can’t get to it to stop it and you’ll be forced to take the vibrations all day._

_You wouldn’t do that, you’re not that cruel! Besides, I can just take it out. So there!_

Oberyn tried to ignore his own arousal as he focused on gathering his notes for court. To make a point about his boy’s threat at disobedience, he didn’t reply.

_No, please, no more! I’m going to cum in my seat. Sir, please make it stop? I’ll do anything, just make it stop._

Oberyn heaved a dramatic sigh even though he was completely alone and grudgingly, slowly, dialled the remote down. He left it off for ten minutes, judging that to be enough time for his boy to calm down. Then he emailed him again.

_Are you in an acceptable state to get to the bathroom?_

The answer was immediate:

_That depends on what you’re going to do to me once I get there?_

_You already know_ , Oberyn huffed another laugh as he typed, notes truly abandoned. Whatever. He’ll win the case, he always does. _But you don’t have to go if you don’t want to._

_I’m already there._

_Good boy_.

Oberyn flicked the remote up at steady intervals of a few minutes apart, until it was on its highest setting. He was tempted to head to the men’s bathroom, which was out by the elevators, but he forced himself to resist.

_I’m cumming right now, I’m cumming! Sir!_

Oberyn pressed his hand down on his own erection, which was tenting his trousers. Then he snapped a picture of the bulge and sent it before he tried to get himself under control and will it away.

The response, a picture of cum splattered belly and thighs and the sweetly softening cock, had Oberyn breaking and charging into his bathroom to take matters in hand.

When he headed out to the hearing half an hour later, the picture of composure, he took Meera with him. Willas had gone home feeling sick, Pod was up to his eyeballs in research for Brienne, and Sansa was sequestered away in Robert’s office, probably doing most of his work for him.

*

He and his admirer both keep mutually quiet after the overwhelming _fun_ of Sunday night and Monday morning. Oberyn’s was already missing their exchanges by Wednesday; he felt on edge but didn’t want to come on too strong by demanding attention.

That evening, to distract himself, he called his sister Elia, who was stressed helping her daughter with her wedding plans.

“What do you think, Oberyn, white roses or red?”

“Why should my opinion matter, my dear?”

“Because Rhaenys and I can't think straight, we're going around in circles.”

“You’d be better to ask Nym or Ty that sort of thing.”

“Speaking of, how did Ty’s shoot go?”

“Well. I’m seeing her tomorrow; I’ll send you the photographs.”

Oberyn’s daughter Tyene’s career as a model made him ridiculously proud; as the new face of Chanel, she was impossibly beautiful. She’d promised to have lunch with her father tomorrow but was only in town for a day or two before she was off to Milan to walk for a runway show. Oberyn was lucky to be fitted into her busy schedule at all.

He didn’t get to see as much of Tyene and Nymeria as he would have liked now that they were grown, and their careers had them traveling so frequently. He compensated the loss of time with them with inundating himself with his younger four daughters, as well as seeing Obara daily at work, and insisting Sarella tear herself away from her graduate studies to have dinner with him every Friday evening.

Later, as he finally climbed into bed, he broke and sent his gorgeous boy a goodnight email.

_Sleep well, my sweetness. I will, as ever, dream of you._

*

Lunch the next day couldn’t come fast enough. Oberyn was drowning in work, but the happiness he felt when Tyene texted to say she’d arrived at the office was insurmountable.

She was waiting for him in the intern’s area because she liked to cause a stir, and the whole office was gazing at her with some type of longing. Oberyn found her leaning over Willas’ desk, making him blush as she teased him, all cleavage spilling from her white blouse.

“Ty, darling, please don’t torment my intern,” Oberyn scolded her.

“Papa,” she moved towards him, her mother’s beauty, yes, but her grace was all Martell, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Oberyn winked at Willas just to see him go from pink to scarlet as he wrapped his arms around his daughter.

“Hi, Papa. Missed you,” she said quietly, such a small little thing in his arms.

“Hi, my darling. I missed you more.”

Obara came running from her office and joined them with a happy shriek, ducking under Oberyn’s arm to join the hug. It had been almost seven months since Ty had last been home; Oberyn gave her one last squeeze before he let them both go just to wrap his arms around their shoulders.

“Obara, you’ll come to lunch?”

“I don’t have time, Dad,” Obara looked miffed. “The Hightowers are doing my head in over the Oldtown report.”

“I thought Robert-”

“No. He dumped it on me about a fortnight ago.”

“I can take over that while you have lunch,” Willas offered to her from behind his monitor. “I’ve just finished the notes for Tyrion on the Dayne case.”

“That would be amazing. Thanks, Willas,” Obara beamed at him.

“He’ll probably have it finished and everything smoothed over by the time we get back,” Oberyn predicted.

“Don’t pressure him!” Obara scolded, smacking at his arm.

“I’m not! I just think he should do a job swap with Renly, given the vastly disparate trade-off when you compare pay to _actual work_.” Oberyn winked at Willas again, before towing the girls to the elevator.

He took them to a Greek place not far from the office and whined at Ty until she promised to order something more substantial than salad. She ate her moussaka with relish as she grilled her father over his love life, one of her favourite topics of conversation.

“So, Papa, who’re you shagging nowadays?”

“Ugh, Tyene!” Obara wrinkled her nose. “Do you actually want to know?”

“Yes!” Tyene insisted, blue eyes wide, and Oberyn gazed at her fondly and tried to decide if he should tell his girls about the emails. While he was perfectly unashamed, he didn’t want to implicate his boy if he was not ready, which Oberyn was reasonably certain he wasn’t.

“No one,” he lied instead.

“Yeah, ‘cos you’re too busy eye-fucking poor little Willas Tyrell,” Obara sniped.

“He’s nearly the same age as you. He’s hardly little,” Oberyn threw back, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the part he should refute. “And I don’t eye fuck him!”

That was a good point, though. Maybe he should start?

“Willas is an angel. You’ll corrupt him.” Obara wouldn’t give up, yet another Martell trait.

“If Papa doesn’t, I will!” Tyene grinned at them. “Willas is almost unbearably pretty!”

“That’s enough of that!” Oberyn pointed his fork at her, then poured both them more wine, before distracting them completely with talk of Rhaenys’ upcoming wedding.

“Now, your Aunt Elia wants to know, white roses or red?”

“Pink!” Ty chirped, just a beat before Obara muttered, “Weeds,” with all the contempt she had within her five-foot frame.

*

Oberyn was wrapping up a divorce hearing a week later, when his boy seemed to just bloody _break_. 

Supporting Amarei Frey against her husband Lancel Lannister was far from the easiest divorce Oberyn had ever hashed out, though none could ever be as difficult as Robert and Cersei’s. Adultery on both sides just made things so _messy_. Making matters worse for Amarei was that Lancel was contesting the entire legality of the marriage, on the grounds that they hadn’t consummated it.

Oberyn’s gorgeous boy had sent him no fewer than fifteen emails in the hour the hearing took before it was adjourned. His sweet one had started tame and lovely, telling Oberyn he missed him at the office, that he hoped the hearing went well, that Lancel was a strange one and his lawyer (Cersei, again, because fuck Oberyn’s life) was a psychotic witch.

Oberyn smiled as he scrolled through more of the emails, while waiting at a set of lights on his way back to the office, one hand on the wheel of his Spyder. The emails grew progressively more and more desperate as the hour had dragged on; his boy begged for Oberyn to return, to take him to his office and ravish him.

_I need you, sir, please. I can’t. I’m aching for you, throbbing, so hard in my trousers. Please, sir, I need you right now! Come take care of me?_

There were images too; his boy, apparently overcome, had snuck into Oberyn’s office and fingered himself on his couch. Oberyn almost rear-ended Tyrion’s car in the parking garage as he gazed fervently at the image of two fingers, knuckle deep, stretching open that perfect pink hole.

“Sorry,” Oberyn called to Tyrion, who was standing at the elevator with an eyebrow raised, after he’d climbed out of his car and jogged to catch up to him.

“Was court so awful you’re contemplating a hit and run?”

“No. Well, kind of. Your sister is a right piece of work.”

“That she is. That she is,” Tyrion murmured, gesturing for Oberyn to precede him into the elevator. “Your head’s been in the clouds far longer than just today, however. You’ve practically been surgically attached to your phone for several weeks now. A trait that seems to be shared by a fellow member of our staff, I’ve noticed.”

“Of course, you have,” Oberyn told him fondly, not ashamed in the least. Nothing got by Tyrion. “Don’t let on to him that you know, though. I don’t want him to panic.”

“What do you take me for?” Tyrion asked with mock offence as the doors pinged open on their floor. “Now that my father is dead there’s only one asshole in the family, and you were in court with it before. I’m just surprised you’re doing so much beating about the bush with your lad, to be honest.”

“I don’t want to scare him off, or come on too strong,” Oberyn explained as they dropped their voices upon passing Loras’ reception area; Loras eyed them suspiciously.

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” Tyrion asked him as he followed Oberyn into his office, probably noticing the long glance Oberyn cast at his brown leather couch, even if he didn’t know what had brought it on. “Don’t be so stupid, Oberyn. Or has everyone you’ve ever bedded been as promiscuous as you?”

“What?” Oberyn asked defensively, before he thought about it. “Well, yeah, probably.”

“The boy’s too shy to make a move,” Tyrion told him patiently. “So, make a move _for_ him. Throw him down on his desk and ravage him in front of half the bloody office if you have to; he looks like he’s practically ready to start crying for it!”

“How do you know so much about it, anyway?” Oberyn asked him, frowning.

“Where do you think the dear heart got your email address from, dumbass? Who do you think put the idea into his pretty little head? Now, for my sanity, will you _please_ stop fannying about and do what Oberyn Martell does best? Seduce his socks off and have ridiculously agile sex while you’re supposed to be on the clock and Robert’s dime.”

Oberyn waved Tyrion out the door as he booted up his laptop and unpacked his files, shooting another look at his couch. After a few moments of deliberation, he pulled out his phone and started replying to the mass of emails from his darling.

_That picture was utterly delicious, you little minx. What a very naughty boy you are today. Why don’t you come in here and lay down on my lap, let me spank your lovely bottom red until you’ve learnt your lesson for being such a bad boy for me?_

The reply was instant:

_That wouldn’t be a punishment, sir. I’d love it. I’d probably cum from it, humping your lap, completely out of control._

Oberyn couldn’t help his laughter.

_You do know I utterly adore you, don’t you?_

_Yes, sir :p_

*

The next day, Oberyn was run off his feet with details for Amarei’s case, which regrettably left him practically no time for fun via email with his boy.

He finally got round to pursuing lunch at 2:30pm, and dragged himself out of his office and towards the vending machines by the elevators, keeping an eye peeled for Obara, who’d have his head if she saw him eating a chocolate bar in lieu of something boring and nutritional.

Loras’ voice floated from reception as Oberyn approached, “I’m so _bored_ , honestly.”

“Surely you’ve got plenty of work to do?” his older brother asked him as he leant against the reception desk.

“He certainly does,” Oberyn pronounced cheerfully as he joined them, admiring Willas’ ass in his slim cut trousers. “Did you call Paxter Redwyne, Loras? Jaime’s waiting on the appointment confirmation.”

“The phone’s not working,” was the mulish response.

Oberyn leant over his desk to where the phone’s cord was lying on the floor next to its power socket.

“Is that because you pulled it out at the wall?”

“…No?”

“It’s got a battery, Lor,” Willas groaned.

“Oh, fine,” Loras groused, as if he were very put upon and making him do his job was unfair.

Willas glanced at Oberyn with a wry smile, a blush already forming on his cheeks. Helpless to resist him in such close proximity, Oberyn let the back of a finger trail over the heated skin and linger under Willas’ cheekbone. Willas blushed harder and looked down.

“And what about you, Mr. Tyrell? Skulking about the reception isn’t one of your duties.”

“Actually, I was on my way somewhere,” Willas glanced up at him again, the slightest challenge in his eyes.

“Were you now? And where could that have been?”

Willas’ lips parted, his beautiful eyes were wide, but there was no fear, no hesitation.

“As a matter of fact, your – “

“Oberyn! Stop fondling the intern! We’ve got bigger problems on our hands than you getting your rocks off!” Robert bellowed as he strode through the front doors. Willas leaped away like a startled rabbit, grabbing Loras’ desk for support as he almost fell. Oberyn got to him first, winding a firm arm around his waist to steady him. He then turned slowly to Robert, a heavy scowl in place.

“Why? What have you done now?”

“I haven’t done anything! It’s my harpy of an ex-wife! Loras! Call Clegane and get him up here and tell him to bring Brienne with him.”

“Why?”

“Loras, don’t question him. Just do it!” his brother hissed.

“What’s going on, Robert?” Oberyn asked, as his boss hollered down the corridor for Jaime.

“LANNISTER! GET OUT HERE! The harpy’s on her way here with Baelish.”

“What? Why?” Oberyn let Willas go reluctantly, so he could focus on Robert. “She can’t bring him here; he can’t come within 300 feet of Sansa Stark.”

“Is Sansa here at the office right now?” Jaime asked, arriving at the same time as Robert shook his head at Oberyn.

“The order hasn’t come into effect. They’re coming to try and keep us from going to a hearing.”

“Fuck!” Oberyn snapped. “We can’t let her know he’s here. She’s petrified of the slimeball.”

“We’ll send her downstairs and get her to do some filing for the clerks,” Robert decided.

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s too late for that. We’re already here!” Cersei announced as she breezed through their door, Baelish skulking in her wake.

Jaime and Robert wore matching expressions of disgust. Baelish’s eyes were already darting about as if looking for Sansa.

“Go take her down to the meeting room,” Oberyn muttered to Willas, who hastened to obey. “Lock her in if you have to. Anything to keep her from having to know that _thing_ is here.”

“Now, Oberyn, that’s not very cordial, is it?” Cersei smirked.

“Fuck cordial,” Sandor Clegane snarled as he stormed through the door, Brienne half a step behind him. “Leave and take this little bitch with you, Cersei, or I’ll make him leave.”

Sandor loomed over Baelish like a hulking shadow while Brienne took up a position blocking the corridor to the intern’s area.

“Now, now.” Cersei simpered, her shrewd eyes a match in colour to her clinging green dress. “Let’s play nice, shall we? We’ve come to have a little chat about the proceedings, or is the concept of civility lost on this firm?”

“We won’t negotiate shit without my client. Who, as you know, isn’t here,” Oberyn snapped through gritted teeth.

“Lysa isn’t, no. But one of the women on the list is, and that’s enough…” Cersei’s tone was all feigned innocence, and Baelish snickered next to her.

“So, where is darling Sansa?”

In the instant he said her name, Sandor had swept Baelish’s feet from under him and clamped a hand on the back of his neck in order to propel him forward and slam him down onto Loras’ desk.

“Oh, ew!” Loras whined. “Get it away from me!”

“You so much as _look_ at her…” Sandor hissed in Baelish’s ear before Jaime and Brienne pulled him away.

“If your staff have quite finished assaulting my client?” Cersei hissed. “Why don’t we get down to business?”

Fuming, Robert led the way to his cavernous office at the far end of the floor. Obara stuck her head out of her office to see what all the noise was as they passed. She took one look at Cersei and said, “Oh, ugh,” before she disappeared with a perfunctory shut of her door. Tyrion, in the office next to her, stuck his head out too and did a comical double-take.

“Sister, dearest! I thought I felt a sudden chill in the air!”

“Go to hell, you little imp.”

Jaime rounded on Cersei with a snarl, and she pouted back at him. Oberyn failed to suppress his shudder.

Piling into Robert’s office en masse meant extra chairs being brought in. Oberyn settled himself next to Jaime on Robert’s black leather couch as they exchanged unhappy glances.

“Now,” Cersei simpered. “If you don’t mind a slight delay… I didn’t want to come outnumbered; you see?”

Jaime snorted and muttered something under his breath that sounded like a slew of swear words. Oberyn would have laughed, except the door opened and the man he hated most in the world strolled in as if he owned the place. Jaime’s hand came down hard on Oberyn’s forearm, fingers clenching in warning.

“Oberyn. Don’t.”

“Rhaegar,” Oberyn eyed his former brother-in-law, “how are you? What an unpleasant surprise. I haven’t seen you since you up and abandoned my sister and her children, you worthless piece of shit.”

“That was 20 years ago, Oberyn,” Rhaegar said gently, eyeing him carefully as he took a seat in front of Robert’s desk on Baelish’ other side.

“And yet, for my family, time has healed shit all.”

“You know I never wanted to hurt Elia, or the children.”

Oberyn frowned. He’d liked Rhaegar. It had hurt him too, seeing his sister in so much pain, his niece confused, his nephew never knowing his father. It was then that he spotted Jon, the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark; the result of the affair that had driven Rhaegar to leave Elia.

Jon was lingering in the doorway, looking awkward.

“Is… is Sansa here?” he asked, eyes hesitant. “I want to make sure she’s OK.”

“She’d be a hell of a lot better if you hadn’t brought the man who’s been harassing and stalking every woman in her family into her workplace! Catelyn’s your sister-in-law, her girls are your nieces!” Oberyn spat at Rhaegar. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’d never let anything happen to any of them!”

“The same way you’ve done such a _great_ job protecting Rhaenys and Aegon? Oh wait, you don’t, because you haven’t clapped eyes on them in 20 years!”

“ _We_ protect Sansa,” Brienne pronounced loftily from where she stood in the doorway behind Jon, making it impossible for any occupant of the room to leave.

If the heart-eyes emoji took human form, it would look like Jaime Lannister.

“Elia barred me from my children,” Rhaegar’s voice was ice as his eyes bored into Oberyn. “As well you know, _you_ negotiated our divorce settlement.”

“I just want to see my cousin,” Jon tried again, looking fearfully at Brienne over his shoulder. “Please?”

His father waved him over to him, “Perhaps not, Jon. Perhaps it’s easier if w…”

“Your daughter’s getting married in the spring, by the way,” Oberyn interrupted Rhaegar loudly, unable to keep his mouth shut. “Going to be great not having you there. Aegon’s walking her down the aisle, you see, since neither of them ever had a father.”

Rhaegar’s purple eyes widened, and Jon looked upset.

“Please give her my best wishes,” the boy said quietly. Oberyn still couldn’t look at him, though he let out a quiet noise in acknowledgement.

Sandor’s sulky rumble sounded from out in the hallway, and Brienne shot a glance over her shoulder before she reluctantly stepped aside to allow Sansa into the room. From beside her, Sandor eyed Baelish like he wanted to snap his neck.

Oberyn low-key hoped he would.

“I’m here, for what it’s worth,” Sansa announced, ignoring Baelish entirely. “Hello, Rhaegar. Jon.”

“Sansa!” Her cousin embraced her, but Sansa returned it with only one arm; her free hand remained clinging to Sandor’s broad palm.

Robert waved his god-daughter to join him in a spare seat on his side of the desk, and once she sat he used his bulk to screen her completely from Baelish’ view.

Oberyn, admittedly, spent as much of the meeting scowling at Rhaegar as Jaime did at Cersei. Jon sat, awkwardly, in an armchair next to them.

“I, um. I saw your daughter Nymeria race Valyria at the Kentucky Derby a few months back,” he murmured to Oberyn. “That horse was brilliant, probably the best your brother’s stable has ever produced. And Nymeria, wow, she was amazing.”

“She is. All my daughters are. You see, even when my relationships with their mother’s disintegrated, I kept myself in their lives. Something your father could have thought to attempt,” Oberyn hissed back. “Now shut up.”

Jon didn’t breathe a word for the remainder of the meeting, or at least, for as long as Oberyn and Jaime were in the room, which wasn’t much longer. Robert turfed them both out ten minutes into negotiations, because they couldn’t stop themselves from sniping insults at Rhaegar and Cersei, respectively.

Tyrion _tsked_ heartily at them and Obara cast a sullen look at her father as they were called in to replace them. Oberyn took refuge in Jaime’s office, swiping a bottle of whiskey from Tyrion’s desk drawer after sneaking in through the brother’s connecting door.

It was only when half the bottle was gone that Oberyn allowed himself to appreciate the fact that Willas had _finally_ been ready to come to him.

By the time the meeting was done the bottle was empty; Jaime was asleep on his desk and Oberyn was fighting the urge to vomit. Luckily Obara stopped in to check on them and smuggled them out before Robert saw the state they were. She seemed to relish the chance to drive Oberyn’s Spyder.

After dropping Jamie at his place, and texting Brienne to make her promise to call around and check up on him during the course of the evening, Obara took her father home.

“You’re my favourite daughter,” Oberyn sang to her as she helped him into his house.

Obara rolled her eyes at him as she called Sarella to come and pick her up.

“Sure, Dad.”

“You are!”

“Well, you’re my favourite Dad, how’s that?”

Oberyn beamed at her and fell asleep on his couch before her call had even connected.

*

The next morning was fucking rough.

Oberyn was face down on his desk, feeling awful and sorry for himself by 9:30am. Obara had told him to suck it up as she’d handed him an egg and bacon roll, and Tyrion had brought him another glass of whiskey, which he’d waved obnoxiously under Oberyn’s nose. Tyrion was a prick.

The sound of Jaime vomiting in his office across the hall made Oberyn feel a little better; at least _he_ wasn’t being sick.

He celebrated his superiority over his friend by opening his emails on his phone, keeping his cheek pressed to the cool wood of his desk. It was lucky he did, because what was waiting for him had him broken out in a sweat.

_So. We almost got there, yesterday. Can we have a do-over?_ _One where I don’t get distracted by my idiot of a brother and you don’t get called into a meeting with a room full of perverted creeps?_

_I was so ready and aching for you. I still am._

_Last night I dreamt of tying you to the headboard of my bed, worshipping your body the way it was made to be, with devotion, lavishing every inch of your skin with attention. I’d stroke you all over, run my hands everywhere, until you were gasping with want._

_Then I’d kiss your body, drag my tongue where you’re most sensitive, until you’re beside yourself with needing me. I’d torment and pleasure you until you were begging to fuck me, begging to feel my ass wrapped around your gorgeous cock._

_I’d take my time, tease you, rub you against my hole, then sink down on you so slow that it would feel like I was barely moving, until you’re all the way in and screaming in agony because you can’t get any deeper._

_Then I’d just circle my hips, little by little, so slowly and gently. You’d shout and thrash and look so beautiful and wild under me. I’d watch your face as you came from just the tight heat and slow friction, clenching around you to milk every last drop._

That was quite enough.

Oberyn picked up his desk phone and dialled Willas’ extension number.

“Willas, would you come in here, please?”

There was hesitation, shuffling, then a quiet, “Yes, sir,” preceded the sound of papers being tidied away, and Willas’ chair gliding on the carpet as he stood, before there was only the dial tone. In no time at all, Willas was in the doorway, only his pink cheeks giving away what Oberyn had known all along.

“Sir?”

“Lock the door. Pull the blinds.”

Slowly, Willas did as he was told, then drifted closer to Oberyn’s desk with his head cocked to one side.

“You look awful.”

“I’m certainly not in the shape I expected to be in when I finally fucked you.”

Willas laughed, then leant over him and slid a soothing hand through his hair. Oberyn wasn’t sure why that turned him on, but hey, whatever.

“Now, why don’t you finally let me see that pretty little cock in person?”

“Are you really in any condition to be having sex right now? And is this really the right place?” Willas looked shy, but amused.

“We’ve been talking about it for weeks,” Oberyn countered. “If we don’t, at some point, I just want it known I may sue you.”

Willas laughed again, and Oberyn wound his arms around his waist to pull him down onto his lap.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Oberyn told him, loving the feel of him in his arms, the press of their bodies together. “Not yet. Not until I can appreciate it properly. Also, I taste awful and may throw up.”

Willas hummed as he settled his body back more firmly against Oberyn's, “So, how long have you known it was me?”

“Since the first email. Well, it wasn’t confirmed until yesterday, obviously, but I’m so devastatingly intelligent that I had my suspicions immediately. I’m beyond pleased that I was right.”

Oberyn dragged him even closer as he spoke, manhandling him until his own clothed bulge was tight against Willas’ ass, and the younger man’s back was to his chest. Willas moaned and pressed back against him, and Oberyn couldn’t help but taste the warm skin of his neck.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he undid Willas’ tie, unbuttoned his shirt, pulled open his belt and drew down his fly. Oberyn let his hands roam the bare, lithe chest, as Willas whined and began to pant; he brushed past his nipples and trailed his fingers down his sensitive stomach, to finally cup him through his briefs.

Willas arched up, crying out again, “Sir…”

“Shh, shh, shh,” Oberyn kissed his temple, squeezing and rubbing at the handful of constrained cock. “Can you cum from this, my sweetness? Shall we see if I can make you cum in your pants like the dirty little boy you really are, hmm?”

Willas’ choked sob was so loud that Oberyn had to seal his free hand over his mouth.

“Sweet one, no, not too loud! We don’t want the whole floor knowing about our fun, do we?”

Willas moaned into his hand, so Oberyn pulled his head down onto his shoulder so he could keep whispering filth into his ear.

“Your cock feels so hot, darling. You’re just throbbing for me, aren’t you? You feel even better than I imagined. How quick do you think I can make you cum for me, gorgeous boy? Shall we keep count of the seconds? One, two, three, four, five...”

Willas began to rock up against Oberyn’s hand, bracing himself against his thigh. The wet stickiness that seeped through the fabric of his briefs didn’t take long. He panted harshly against Oberyn’s palm as he came, his body writhing gorgeously in his arms.

When Oberyn finally took his hand away from Willas’ mouth, his boy’s face was flushed bright red.

“If you don’t take me home and fuck me right now, I’ll quit,” Willas told him as he climbed off his lap and started pulling up his trousers.

They were peeling out of the parking bay in under five minutes.

*

Willas’ apartment was closer, which is how Oberyn finally ended up naked in his bed. He was right about the white sheets, which were comfortingly cool. He fell asleep in mere moments while Willas showered, his throbbing head not even remotely conducive to the undoubtedly insane amount sex they were going to have.

Oberyn woke at some unspecified time later to find the gorgeous boy of his affections curled up against him.

“Time’s it?” Oberyn mumbled groggily, and Willas chuckled as he sat up and made him take aspirin and drink most of a bottle of water.

“Early afternoon.”

Oberyn rolled over, draped an arm over Willas’ waist and went back to sleep.

When he woke again Willas was gone, so Oberyn hauled himself out of his bed and looked around. The room was small; the queen size bed with its padded headboard took up most of the space.

Oberyn got dressed and wandered in the direction of the kitchen he’d briefly glimpsed on his way to Willas’ room. There was no sign of Willas, but Loras was sitting at the counter eating cereal, despite the fact it was only 4pm. He didn’t seem remotely surprised to see Oberyn.

“Why aren’t you at work?” Oberyn asked as he helped himself to another bottle of water from the fridge. His headache was finally gone, as was his nausea, thank God.

“I got bored,” Loras shrugged.

“So, who’d you wrangle to answer the phones? If you say Obara, I’ll hit you.”

“Pod,” Loras mumbled defensively. “Are you fucking my brother?”

“Not quite yet, but uh. Yes.”

“Oh good! It’s about time.”

“Indeed,” Oberyn murmured, as Willas wandered in clutching an Uber Eats bag.

“Loras! Why aren’t you at work?!” he scolded as he came to wrap an arm around Oberyn’s waist.

“It’s _fine_ , Pod’s doing the phones.”

“Well bugger off to Renly’s then,” Willas grumbled at him as he started pulling out plates from the cupboard, and Oberyn made a noise of pleasure as he unpacked the Thai food Willas had ordered. “Don’t come back for a few days.”

“Willas!” Loras’ expression was half jubilant, half scandalised. “Fine, but I want all the details.”

“No.”

“Ugh! You’re no fun!”

Loras whined at them for a while longer before it seemed to eventually become clear to him that he wasn’t going to get his way. He huffed all the way out the door, as if they were very cruel for not wanting him to stick around.

“Your brother’s a bit weird,” Oberyn told Willas over his prawn pad phed.

“Oh, you have no idea.” Willas smiled at him across the table, so sweet and beautiful, and Oberyn’s tolerance went clean out the window. The rest of the food was probably delicious, but Oberyn would never know because he’d scooped Willas up and had carted him back to bed before he could eat another bite.

*

Oberyn was never one to give much thought to how he would die. It turned out it was to be at the hands of Willas Tyrell’s perfect ass because it was going to be the freaking _death_ of him that Willas seemed to want to take his time when it came to screwing Oberyn’s brains out.

When they’d stumbled into the room, shedding clothes between hungry kisses, Willas had pressed Oberyn down onto the bed, his weight cradled between Oberyn’s hips. But Oberyn wasn’t sure exactly when that had become, well, _this_.

Because _damn_ had Willas bloody Tyrell done a number on him.

Oberyn tried to glower up at him, but his gorgeous boy was entirely unconcerned and remained absorbed by his task. Oberyn couldn’t forcibly get Willas’ attention because his arms were now bound to either side of the padded headboard by silk ties. He rested his back against it, already breathing heavy, his cock swelling with interest as Willas _finally_ finished securing Oberyn’s ankles to long ties at the bottom corners of the bed.

His mission accomplished, Oberyn’s eye-wateringly sexy new lover moved back up to perch on his thighs and smirk down at him.

“Are you comfortable enough?”

Oberyn nodded yes, the simple silk gag in his mouth rendering speech impossible.

“Good.” Willas ran his hands along Oberyn’s arms, from his wrists to his shoulders, then slid them down his chest and abdomen, cataloguing each rib and muscle with excruciating slowness. “Because you’re going to be in this position for quite some time.”

He touched every available inch of Oberyn’s skin, from his neck down to the soles of his feet; Oberyn’s cock was rewarded with the slow sweep of fingertips from the base to the tip, and his balls were massaged for a few torturous moments before Willas moved down his legs. True to his word in his last email, Willas followed the touch with his mouth, kissing along Oberyn’s collarbone and down his chest, pausing to lap at his nipples when Oberyn whined at the too-brief contact there. He licked at Oberyn’s hip bones too as he kissed down past his stomach, to lick at the insides of his thighs.

Oberyn writhed in delight as he tugged helplessly at his bonds, his cock begging for attention, already hard and aching. Willas lingered tantalisingly close to it, before he gave it a single lick from base to tip, eyes dancing as he looked up at him.

“Something you want to say, sir?”

Oberyn scowled at him, and Willas grinned in response. Then he repeated the same path over Oberyn’s skin with his hands again, this time avoiding Oberyn’s cock altogether, before following with his mouth. He did it over and over, until Oberyn’s body was rolling under him in a state of constant movement, writhing and arching helplessly as best he could, desperately moaning for contact where he wanted it the most.

“Beg me,” Willas panted to him, nipping at Oberyn’s ankle before he crawled up his body to perch over him again. Oberyn thrashed his head back and forth as he whined and wailed into his gag, his words muffled.

“Yes, fuck, show me how bad you want my ass. Show me how bad you want to fuck me,” Willas hissed at him, hands skittering over Oberyn’s hips.

Oberyn threw himself forward to try and get more contact, fighting the silk ties for all he was worth. Willas groaned as he watched him struggle, then braced his weight on his good knee and planted one hand on Oberyn’s shoulder for balance, so he could hold himself suspended over Oberyn’s hips. He grasped Oberyn’s desperately helpless cock and rubbed the wet tip of it against his hole, panting in pleasure.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long. Thought about this so many times.”

Oberyn tried to communicate that it was the same for him, but all that came out was a garbled wail through the silk. Willas chuckled before he pulled it from around Oberyn’s mouth.

“I can’t take it anymore!” Oberyn gritted out; too many weeks of teasing promises had reduced his tolerance to shreds. “Sweetness, please… Have mercy on me!”

“Oh, is there something big, bad Oberyn Martell wants?”

Oberyn looked Willas dead in the eyes, let his hips rock his pulsing cock up to press against his hole once more.

“Please, my sweet.”

Willas let out a delighted laugh but apparently wasn’t done with his tormenting yet. What followed was the most glorious blowjob of Oberyn’s life, delivered while Willas fingered himself open with one hand, the other curled around the base of Oberyn’s cock as he sucked him.

When Willas finally pulled off him, with a fantastically filthy wet noise, Oberyn could barely open his eyes; his lust-addled brain had fogged up his senses with need. He felt like his whole body was pulsing with his desire.

“In fairness,” Willas pointed out from somewhere above him, “I did warn you I wanted to make this go all night.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Oberyn decided. “You actually want me to die.”

“A sort of death. A little death. Here, let me make it up to you,” Willas murmured as he arranged himself over Oberyn’s cock once more. He planted his hands on Oberyn’s shoulders and sunk down onto him with one fluid, sweet shift of his hips that had them both yelling out together in delight.

“Oh fuck, oh my gorgeous boy!” Oberyn groaned, because for the love of God, Willas was so perfectly warm and tight and sweet around him.

Willas whimpered in response as he began to swivel his hips, scrabbling at Oberyn’s chest for purchase. He kept up the slow, teasing circles, his ass flush against Oberyn’s body until they were both breathless with need. When Willas finally deigned to start riding him properly, all Oberyn could do was sit back and take it. His bonds were too taut for him to even thrust up properly and the best he could manage was a not very rhythmic rocking of his hips.

“That’s so good. You feel so good,” Willas sobbed, seemingly happy to do the brunt of the work. With gritted teeth, he got a firmer grip on Oberyn’s shoulders and began to move faster, bouncing steadily on his lap.

The breath was fucked right out of Oberyn’s lungs. He gazed reverently up at the sight Willas made with his head tipped back, sweat trickling down his neck, his body straining as he worked himself so sweetly on Oberyn’s cock.

Oberyn couldn’t move, but he could sure as hell could talk. “You’re so perfect, my gorgeous boy. So, so perfect. You feel incredible, darling. Never felt anything so lovely, so warm and tight. God, look at you, you take my cock so well! Such a good, sweet boy for me, so lovely. I always knew you’d be the hottest, sweetest fuck of my life.”

“There’s no way,” Willas panted at him, “that you’ve wanted me as long as I’ve wanted you, that you’ve thought about this as often as I’ve thought about this. Fuck, you’re so big! Feels so good, your cock throbbing inside me…”

“Sweet one, I’ve thought of little else since you started at the firm. If you untie me, if you let me throw you down and fuck you properly, I’ll show you exactly how _hard_ you’ve made it for me.”

Willas whined before he began to move even faster, his rhythm lost, one hand dropping from Oberyn’s shoulder to strip his cock.

“Can’t. Stop. Gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, sir!”

“Is that so? You’re going to cum for me? Where are you going to cum, sweetness? Where is that pretty little cock going to cum?”

“All over you,” Willas panted, eyes wide and feverish. “I’m going to cum all over you, all over your chest.”

“Do it,” Oberyn told him, allowing the command to lace his voice. “Cum. Cum right now.”

Willas’ sweet face crumpled as his whimpers increased in pitch before his breath seemed to stutter out of his lungs completely. His eyes rolled back, and not a split second later Oberyn felt his torso being splattered with warm cum.

“That’s it, love, that’s perfect,” Oberyn crooned to him, grateful that Willas was still shunting his hips almost mindlessly on Oberyn’s cock. It was watching Willas’ hazy eyes slip closed as he panted in satisfaction that had Oberyn following suit. Oberyn pressed his heels as best he could in the mattress and strained against the restraints on his wrists once more, body pulling taut as he came, growling in delight as he filled up the sweet warmth that surrounded him.

Willas slumped down against his chest, boneless, and Oberyn kissed his damp hair even as he sucked breath back into his starving lungs.

“I literally don’t have words,” he mumbled in Willas’ ear, and his boy made a sleepy noise in response, sliding slowly off his sated cock and curling up properly against Oberyn’s sweaty skin.

“Sweet one, once we’ve showered and slept a bit, I’m going to pin you down and fuck you so damn hard…”

Willas cracked one eye open and leaned back to sleepily appraise Oberyn, who was still bound to the headboard.

“Or I could just keep you like this,” he pointed out. “All tied up… I’ll feed you and clean you up and just keep you here, use your cock as my toy whenever I want it.”

“If you want twice the punishment when you finally let me out, sure, be my guest,” Oberyn allowed.

“That sounds fun,” Willas stretched and rolled off him, yawning as he leaned over to start untying Oberyn’s left wrist. “Didn’t we decide it’s not a punishment if I enjoy it?”

“That depends on whether there actually is anything that you don’t enjoy,” Oberyn pointed out, rotating his wrist to help the blood return.

Willas just shrugged, let his body flop across Oberyn’s chest as he reached for his other wrist. Oberyn bowed his head to kiss his along his ribcage.

“There’s really only one way to find out,” Willas mumbled.

Once Oberyn was finally free, he rolled Willas underneath him. He ran his hands through Willas’ curls as he kissed him, pressed him into the mattress and lost himself in the taste of his mouth and the scent of his sweat and cum, all thoughts of showering a distant memory.

“Remind me to send Tyrion a gift basket?” he panted against Willas’ tongue sometime later, but his lover shook his head.

“I already gave him a stupidly expensive bottle of whiskey. It cost half my paycheck for the month. I don’t care how good you fuck; I need to make rent, so no more presents for Tyrion.”

“Was it in a red bottle? Jaime and I drank all that yesterday.”

Willas laughed until Oberyn kissed him breathless.

“And I absolutely fuck good enough to make it worth it, believe me,” Oberyn informed him, when they finally peeled themselves apart and Willas rolled out from under him.

“Prove it,” was the answer Willas threw over his shoulder as he headed to the shower.

Oberyn proved it against the shower wall and then again when Willas woke him at 3am, hard and reaching for him, and then again over the kitchen counter the next morning.

He would have liked to keep proving it as he pinned Willas against the elevator doors on the way up to the office, but when they opened onto their floor Oberyn practically fell onto his own daughter, so that plan was scrapped.

Obara gritted out a “for-fucks-sake-Dad” through clenched teeth and smacked him on the arm with her laptop bag while Willas fled ahead into the reception, his laughter trailing behind him as he quickly did up his shirt.

Tyrion toasted Oberyn with his coffee mug from the hallway as Oberyn made a break for the safety of his office, ducking the pen Obara threw at his head.

“Thank you! I owe you!” Oberyn just had time to yell to Tyrion, before he slammed his door shut, the pen bouncing off the wood.

“I take payment in the form of alcohol!” his friend called back. “As well you know!”

Oberyn folded his arms behind his head once he’d dropped down onto his chair but straightened up when his phone chirped to him. He let out a yawn as he opened the email from Willas.

_Miss you already._

Oberyn allowed himself a very self-satisfied smirk as he started tapping out his reply.


End file.
